


when the night falls, my lonely heart calls

by Blyth3



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Ballet, Banter, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Folk Dancing, Gen is trans, M/M, People being bad at feelings, Sophos is not here yet because he is currently way too young for Helen, TO BE CLEAR: all the age differences are kinda smooshed together so everyone is much closer in age, niche AUs relevant to author's interests and author's interests only o'clock, some RotT spoilers, the Comet is more background sorry, the T rating is ENTIRELY for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blyth3/pseuds/Blyth3
Summary: “I have no interest in folk dancing,” Irene said.“Have you ever tried?” Eugenides said.  “You haven’t, have you?  Do you even know how to do any kind of dancing besides ballet?”  Irene pressed her lips together.  “Have you ever, even once in your life, gotten down?”
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides, Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes
Comments: 28
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I normally try not to disclaimer my creative work because I want to let it stand on its own, but listen. I wrote a LOT of this while VERY medicated and did not edit as much afterwards as I should have. Anyway. I love contra, the Eddisian dances in the books sound kinda like contra even though that's from the wrong part of Europe, here ya go.

Irene tapped her foot on the floor. Unfortunately, the effect was lessened by her hot pink warmup booties, and any noise she might have made despite that was drowned out by muffled fiddling.

“I swear there was nothing on the schedule,” Heiro said, going to run her fingers through her hair even though it was in a bun. She cursed as she dislodged several bobby pins and a section of her bangs. Irene turned to Agape.

“Don’t look at me!” Agape said. “No one invites me to contra dances anymore. They know I’m always busy with rehearsal, plus I think my family feels like I betrayed them and went to the dark side. I can’t keep track of when the contras are happening anymore.”

“It’s just ballet,” Heiro said. “If anything, modern dance is the dark side.” Several other dancers opened their mouths to argue with her.

“Ladies,” Phresine said, and they all straightened up instinctively. Even Kamet, their token male dancer.

“I still say we could’ve just started a fire in the studio,” Chloe said. Everyone else ignored her because they’d already had this conversation while standing in their tiny ballet studio, shivering and realizing that the heat had broken sometime earlier that day. Luckily, Agape had remembered that the town hall had a space that was often used for contra dancing and bingo, which should be big enough for a temporary studio replacement. Even better, when Heiro checked, the online schedule said it wasn’t booked for anything that day.

“I keep telling Uncle Hector that he has to actually remember to add events to the community calendar,” Agape grumbled. “I’ve walked him through how to use the calendar app at least three times. At this point I think he’s just pretending he doesn’t know how to use it.”

“Why are we all still standing here?” Imenia said, shivering, even though she knew perfectly well why.

“Yeah,” Chloe added, “they’re just folk dancers. What’s so scary about corny square dancing or whatever?” Several of the assembled ballet dancers turned to glare at her and Agape began to object to Chloe’s description (it wasn’t clear if the problem was “corny” or “square”) before Elia shut her up. “What?”

“Irene has this _thing_ ,” Ileia said.

“I don’t have a ‘thing’!”

“It’s small town politics,” Kamet added, piping up from where he’d been huddled in the back in a down jacket that was at least four sizes too big from him and therefore probably borrowed from his definitely-just-a-friend, Costis. “You know how it is when everyone’s family has been here for something like three hundred years.” Chloe did not know how it is when everyone’s family had been there for something like three hundred years, because _her_ family had just moved from California last year. Kamet didn’t know either, since his family had moved here when he was a kid, but he liked to act like he was an authority on local history.

“It’s just that, historically,” Irene said through clenched teeth, “My family has not always gotten on terribly well with the Eddis family.”

“Land dispute,” Ileia said. “Brutal. Almost turned into one of those family feuds like the Hatfields and the McCoys.”

“And the Eddises organize all the contras in the area,” Agape said. “It’s a family tradition. They’re really fun!”

Everyone stared at her.

“You can’t shame me about this!” Agape said cheerfully. “The only reason I don’t go anymore is because our rehearsals almost always overlap. Although I have to be real with you, I might go to Flurry next year.”

There was a polite silence of complete and under incomprehension.

“It’s a contra dance festival. Very cool. They do techno contras and stuff!”

The ballet dancers collectively decided that they were never ever under any circumstances going to ask Agape to explain what a techno contra was.

“Ugh,” Heiro said, looking at her phone. “I wanted to double-check the schedule in case we missed something but I forgot that I don’t have reception anywhere in town.”

“Me neither,” Caeta said. “As soon as I leave the studio’s wifi I’m toast.”

“Don’t you just love the countryside?” Silla said. “So picturesque. So charming. So full of ticks and cow shit and complete dead zones so bad you probably can’t even call for help if you’re getting murdered.”

“I think 911 is an exception?” Lavia said. “But I’ve never been murdered.”

“I have reception,” Agape offered.

“What company do you use?” Caeta said. “I’ve been thinking of switching.”

“Alright,” Phresine said. “That’s it, ladies. Enough standing around in the unheated entryway and stiffening up. We’re going in and we’re asking them when they’ll be finished.”

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” Irene muttered under her breath, knowing that none of the other girls would really get her reference because while plenty of them were nerds, they were the wrong _kind_ of nerds for that joke. Kamet snickered and Irene glanced at him gratefully. Aglaia hummed the Mission Impossible theme until Silla whacked her with her dance bag.

Phresine pushed through the doors to the hall, with Agape and Irene close behind her. The music became uncomfortably loud as all the other ballet dancers squished in behind the leading trio.

The town hall was only a little younger than the town itself, and the inside had been beautifully preserved. The exposed rafters in the ceiling were painted with charming floral designs, and the refurbished wooden floor shone. The walls were hung with historical photographs chronicling the past of the town. Unfortunately, most of this was obscured by the mass of Eddises, assorted cousins, friends of Eddises, serious contra dancers from all over New England, and probably a few lost tourists feeling like they’d just been abducted by the fae to dance their shoes to shreds in a revel. It was an unlikely mix of people; there was a serious contingent of old folks dressed in nice, respectable clothing, but they were intermingled with a large group of obviously queer punks, a number of hippies who all wore skirts (regardless of gender), several people who were wearing seriously expensive dance sneakers, and what looked like half of the freshman class from the local high school (who were probably here for extra credit in P.E.) A burly man was standing in front of the band, sing-songing, “And swing your partner!” into the mic.

“Welcome!” said the massive man sitting behind the folding table at the entrance. “The entrance fee is pay-what-you-can, or free if you’re under 12, over 70, or a student. All the money goes straight back into paying for the—uh.”

“Aulus,” Agape said sweetly, “the town’s website specifically shows that this room isn’t booked for any events today.”

“Well,” Aulus said, rallying quickly, “you know how Uncle Hector is. Were you, uh, planning to use it for something?”

“I’d like to speak to Hector,” Phresine said. “I’m sure we can work something out.” Her expression indicated that she would _make_ something work out, possibly over Agape’s Uncle Hector’s dead body.

“Uh, well he’s calling right now,” Aulus said.

“That means he’s the one with the microphone telling the dancers what to do,” Agape translated.

“Left hand star!” Hector called from the top of the hall.

“But there’s a waltz coming up and he doesn’t need to call that,” Aulus continued. “You could talk to him then?”

“I’ll wait,” Phresine said regally, seating herself next to a wriggling child playing video games and a young woman with a knee brace desperately chugging water. The ballet dancers looked around, trying to decide where they were supposed to go.

“Oh!” Kamet said. “Hi, Costis.” Irene turned and eyed Costis suspiciously. Historically, the Ormentides family had been more on the Attolis family’s side of things, and she wasn’t sure what he was doing here. Costis made eye contact with her and blushed.

“Hey,” Costis said to Kamet.

“So do you, um, like this?” Kamet said. “This kind of dancing?”

“Yeah,” Costis said. “I like dancing.”

“Cool,” Kamet said.

“Cool,” Costis said. Irene turned away to look at whoever was walking towards her before she died of secondhand embarrassment. When would those two realize they liked each other? She would never be so undignified as to—

“Oh,” Irene said, wincing. “It’s you, Eugenides.”

“In the too, too solid flesh!” Eugenides Eddis said, grinning up at her.

“What the hell are you wearing.”

Eugenides was, in fact, wearing a ruffled white pirate shirt with a rainbow button pinned to it that read, “I dance both roles!” in off-center Comic Sans font. The pirate shirt was tucked into a patchwork purple-and-black skirt, and he was one of the people wearing serious dancing sneakers. He had on a cheap costume hook today instead of a prosthetic hand. The cuff was taped down to his forearm with hot pink athletic tape. Irene winced at the sight. She didn’t know why he had to be so _undignified_ about it.

“It’s my pirate costume,” he said.

“No one else is in costume.”

“That’s okay,” Eugenides said, with zero further explanation.

“And bow to your partner!” Hector called as the music wound down. Eugenides offered Irene his hand as the contra dancers dispersed to find new partners for the next song.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“Below your dignity?” he asked, seemingly unruffled. (Except for the ruffles on his shirt.)

“I have no interest in folk dancing,” Irene said.

“Have you ever tried?” Eugenides said. “You haven’t, have you? Do you even know how to do any kind of dancing besides ballet?” Irene pressed her lips together. “Have you ever, even once in your life, gotten down?”

“I know how to dance!” Irene said.

“The whole stereotype of uptight ballet dancers does exist for a reason,” Chloe interjected. “Most of us suck at normal people dancing.”

Irene whipped around to glare at her, only to see that almost all the other ballet dancers were blatantly listening in on her and Eugenides. Some of them looked like they should have cartoon hearts in their eyes. What a bunch of romantics. One objectively attractive (but annoying) man with a mildly tragic past asked their friend to dance and suddenly they started having flashbacks to their favorite Jane Austen movie adaptations or whatever.

Chloe, the target of Irene’s glare, blanched white and hid behind Iolanthe. Iolanthe sighed, looking put upon.

“Come on,” Eugenides said. “My dad even tells you what to do! And I’m a great dancer, it’ll be easy.”

“No,” Irene said.

“No what? No I’m not a great dancer?”

“I’m sure you’re an adequate dancer,” she said. “I’ve seen you do your ridiculous gymnastic tricks, and your form seems fine.”

Eugenides clasped his hand to his heart, and mimed shock and injury. It was surprisingly well-acted.

“Oh, lady!” he said. “Wounded! Damned by faint praise! I may never recover, unless…”

“Unless?” Irene said, raising one eyebrow and smirking. She was feeling perhaps the tiniest bit charmed in spite of herself.

“Unless I am cured by true love’s kiss!”

“Well,” Irene said very seriously, “I suppose I can help with that.” Eugenides perked up immediately. “I know _all_ about your feelings. I’ll just go and get one of the horses from my family’s farm and—”

Eugenides’s shoulders slumped momentarily before he looked back up at Irene and grinned.

“Oh no,” he said, “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on my behalf.”

“Oh no,” Irene said, mimicking his tone. “I insist.” Eugenides had just opened his mouth to quip back when several intimidatingly buff punks approached the two of them.

“Is this guy bothering you?” said one of the punks affably. Irene looked at her for a moment, uncomprehending, before her eyes widened in shock.

“Helen?” she said. Helen Eddis smiled back, curly hair newly cut in a mohawk. She was wearing a patched and pin-covered jacket and ripped black jeans, which clashed with her neon green running sneakers. Irene suspected one of the pairs of combat boots lined up against the far wall belonged to her.

“Hey, Irene,” Helen said.

“Wow!” Irene said. “You look great!” The two of them did an awkward “how friendly are we?” sort of shuffle before hugging briefly. Eugenides looked on. While the Attolises and Eddises were supposed to hate each other, it really wasn’t that big of a deal in day-to-day interactions, especially not when all the kids went to high school together. Except for Eugenides and Irene, because he was a horrible little goblin who lived to torment her, and she felt guilty every time she saw him, which manifested in being vaguely mean instead of actually apologizing. His cousin Helen was perfectly nice most of the time, and when she wasn’t nice, it was directed at people who deserved to get yelled at and/or punched.

“You know how it is,” Helen said, “you go away to a tiny women’s liberal arts college and come back home for winter break queerer and hotter.”

“Haha yeah,” Irene said, since she’d only noticed two months ago that she was bisexual and she had yet to tell another living soul.

“You’re a tiny women,” Eugenides said to Helen, seemingly as a reflex.

“What does that make you?” Helen asked her cousin, who was exactly the same height as her. He opened his mouth. “I swear to all the gods if you say ‘fun-sized’ or ‘a short king’—”

Eugenides pivoted smoothly from needling his cousin and turned back to Irene.

“I admit that contra can be a little intimidating for a beginner, especially if you missed the tutorial, but how about a waltz?”

“A waltz,” Irene said, choosing not to even start on “intimidating”.

“There’s waltzing in ballet, right?”

“Technically, yes.”

“So you know how to waltz?”

“It’s not the same as ballroom dancing,” Irene said.

“You can definitely pick it up,” Eugenides said.

“He’s probably right,” Helen added, somewhat reluctantly. “You can keep it pretty simple. Although I’m not sure I’d ever trust Gen to keep anything simple…”

“The next dance is going to be a waltz,” Eugenides added.

“Yes, that’s what I hear,” Irene said. The two of them eyed each other for a long moment; Irene raised one eyebrow and Eugenides made a valiant attempt to copy her.

“And one last swing!” Hector called, and Eugenides looked away, turning towards the dancers.

“I’m not waltzing with you,” Irene said, “because I think you’re up to something. But, I’ll waltz with your cousin.” She looked at Helen. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Gen?” Helen said. Eugenides waved his hand permissively.

“I’m merely trying to prove that she doesn’t need to look down on lesser forms of dance,” he said.

“I never said ‘lesser’!” Irene said. “I was just offended that you were acting like the ballet dancers were intruding!”

“Are you two still mad at each other about the school play two years ago?” Helen said.

“No,” Irene said.

“Yes,” Eugenides said.

“Bow to your partner!” Hector called. “And now it’s time for a waltz!”

Eugenides threw up a sloppy salute to Helen with his hook and drifted off to coax Agape into a dance.

“Uh,” Irene said. “I know people usually expect the taller person to take the male role, and I have to do that all the time in ballet, but—”

“It’s cool, I’ll do it,” Helen said. “And we actually call it ‘lead’ and ‘follow’. It’s a gender neutral contra, Uncle Hector made the switch in his calling right after Gen came out. It also weeded out some bigots, which was refreshing.” She held out her hands. “Here, put your hands in mine, palms down. We can do a nice, chill open position. Just mirror my footwork, I won’t twirl you yet.”

“I have to admit,” Irene said carefully, “I was a little surprised to see him in a skirt.”

“It’s a context thing,” Helen said, as they took the first step together. “Guys wearing skirts to contra is a time-honored tradition.”

“I can see that,” Irene said, glancing up briefly to look around. “This really isn’t what I imagined a contra dance would be like.”

“You were expecting something stodgy and old-fashioned, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Let’s try a twirl,” Helen said, and carefully guided Irene through a quick spin in time to the song. “You have a great sense of rhythm, which, duh.”

“Believe me, if you’d had to do _The Nutcracker_ as many times as I have, you’d be able to keep 3 / 4 rhythm in your sleep, let alone while actually dancing.”

“I can imagine,” Helen said. “So listen, are you really definitely not still mad at Gen about the school play?”

“I might be holding a tiny grudge,” Irene said. The school’s spring play two years ago had been _As You Like It_ and the drama teacher had decided that she might as well take advantage of the fact that they had an award-winning (if small) ballet company in town and recruit some of the dancers to help with the dance scene. Eugenides had objected to the ballet and said that they should use contra instead. (After all, a full third of the cast was made up of Eddises and associates.) He had had a spectacular temper tantrum and implied that ballet was fiddly and useless and that the ballet students were intruding on the sacred theatrical space. Irene had not responded well. The fight had ended with Eugenides storming out and fainting in a corridor, where another student had found him and called 911. He’d been rushed to the hospital, where they discovered that Eugenides had been nursing an infected wound on his right hand for a week without telling anyone. He’d just barely made it back to school in time for the semester to end.

“I mean, the timing…” Helen said, guiding Irene away from bumping into an older couple who were swaying slowly, eyes closed, heads on each other’s shoulders.

“The timing?” Irene said, as Helen spun her out into a more elaborate twirl. Helen waited for Irene to come back to her before she continued. Irene leaned in closer so that she could hear what Helen was saying.

“You know, when you kissed him?” Helen said. “And then avoided him for days? And then you two had that big fight about the play in front of everyone?” Irene stiffened and almost sent the two of them careening into an overly affectionate couple.

“He told you about that?” she said. Irene had privately wondered about the timing herself. As best she could guess, his hand had already been hurt when the two of them had kissed, but she’d always wondered why he’d kept it hidden for almost another week…

“I figured most of it out from context clues,” Helen said. “By which I mean his tendency to mope and look you up on Instagram.” Irene spared a moment to hope that he’d seen some of the really pretty, artistic portraits she’d posted recently. She hadn’t even known that Eugenides used social media. Helen shrugged. “Then I wrangled the rest out of him.”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” Irene offered, lying through her teeth. Helen scowled at her, and Irene became uncomfortably aware that Helen Eddis was known to be a black belt in karate. Irene sighed and offered at least some of the truth. “Also my brother had just died.”

“Oh,” Helen said. Irene’s much-older brothers had lived and worked in New York City, and were vaguely disdained in town for moving away and forgetting their roots. The town rumor mill had slowly lost track of them. “Was it…?”

“It was the one I liked,” Irene said. “So I, you know, went a little crazy.” And maybe contributed to Eugenides losing his hand, although she wasn’t sure she would ever find out one way or the other. She would just have to live with the guilt, which was _fine_.

“I get that,” Helen said. Irene nodded; Helen’s childhood temper tantrums when both of her parents had died were the stuff of legend. Helen cocked her head. “The song’s winding down.”

“Does he still…?” Irene said, trying to stick to the topic that Helen had unfortunately brought up. Helen sighed.

“Can I dip you?”

“Huh?” Irene said.

“I know I’m a lot shorter, but hey, that means I won’t fall over.”

“Sure,” Irene said. “Yeah. Go ahead and dip me.” Helen turned her into one last graceful spin and then hastily positioned her for the dip. “Oof!” Irene said. “I didn’t realize you meant _that_ low.”

“I’m _short_ ,” Helen said. “Tilt your head back.” Irene did, sticking her left leg partway up in the air for good measure since Helen’s support felt pretty solid. Between Irene’s flexibility and the low dip, she could now see all the way behind where she and Helen had finished the dance. Eugenides was looking at the two of them, gently touching his heart with his shitty plastic hook. His facial expression was uncomfortably similar to how he’d looked when he was pretending to be wounded by Irene’s “faint praise”.

“Oh,” Irene said, feeling dizzy as Helen got her back upright. “Shit.”

-

Phresine emerged victorious from battle with Hector, negotiating an agreement that the contra dancers definitely would not book the hall on Mondays or Tuesdays until the heat at the studio was fixed. However, since it was already too late in the day to turn the space over to the ballet dancers, they all dispersed to do whatever they wanted with this unexpected evening off. Agape, Ileia, and Kamet even stayed behind to dance.

Irene fled as soon as she was able to, and spent the next few days studiously avoiding any Eddises except for Agape, who was too nice to be a member of that family anyway. Unfortunately, it turned out that she couldn’t run away from her problems forever.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Irene said, choosing to ignore any realizations she may previously have had in favor of the more immediate problem.

“Careful,” Eugenides replied. “Think of the children!” Irene glanced at the assorted gaggle of beginning ballet children; most were running around pretending to be warrior butterflies, but one was picking her nose and staring intently at the two of them. They were already back in the studio, since the heat had apparently been an easy fix.

“I _am_ thinking of the children,” she said, sounding much fonder than she’d meant to. “You’d be a terrible influence on them.”

“I’ll have you know I babysat many of my younger cousins.”

“I’ve met your cousins. That’s not a good defense.” Eugenides looked proud as he clearly thought about all the horrible pranks his cousins had played on the Attolises. “Seriously. Why are you here? Just to annoy me?”

“I think it’s obvious why I’m here,” Eugenides said, gesturing to his black pants and white T-shirt. “I’m joining the beginning ballet class.”

“You’re almost an adult!”

“Technically,” Phresine said from the reception desk where she’d been watching the two of them the whole time, “since we’re such a small studio, we only sort by level instead of by age. It’s just that usually people start younger.”

“I’m a fast learner!” Eugenides said.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Why are _you_ here?” Eugenides said. “The studio is booked for _my_ class.”

“I’m covering the reception desk while Phresine teaches your class!” Irene said. “Stop trying to gotcha me.”

“I’m just asking,” Eugenides said haughtily.

“Well then stop asking me things!” Irene hissed, fully aware of how ridiculous she sounded, but unable to stop herself.

“Alright, children,” Phresine said, mostly to the actual children but also to Eugenides and Irene. “Let’s head over to the studio and get started!” The kids filed slowly into the studio itself and Eugenides trailed behind, pausing only to stick his tongue out at Irene.

“Never mind,” Irene called after him. “Clearly you _belong_ in that class.” She sat down at the desk and massaged her temples. What was it about Eugenides that was so uniquely frustrating to her? Several possibilities sprung to mind, but she refused to think about them. Instead, she pulled a massage stick out of her overstuffed dance bag and started to roll out her calves, wincing dramatically. She felt that she deserved a bit of dramatic wincing. She’d walked over in the cold without warm enough clothes and all her muscles were uncomfortably tight. Irene had seen an older dancer tear her Achilles one time in the middle of rehearsal and she emphatically did not want to ever experience that herself.

Irene looked up as she heard someone walking up the rickety stairs to the porch. Someone was going to fall through those stairs someday.

“Oh good,” Kamet said as he poked his head in. “You’re here?”

“Were you looking for me?” Irene asked. Their advanced class was next, but Kamet was over an hour early.

“Yeah,” Kamet said, putting his dance bag down and sitting on one of the couches. “I wanted your advice.”

“On what?” Irene asked, drawing a complete blank.

“Well,” Kamet said, “you’re really pretty and a lot of people like you.”

“What?” Irene said, feeling vaguely shocked. He was right, but it was a weird thing to say. Was he hitting on her? She’d been so sure he was gay, even though she felt kind of bad about assuming that about the only guy in the advanced dance class.

“I just mean that you know what it looks like when people are attracted to you?”

“Kamet, I have absolutely no idea where you’re going with this. The suspense is killing me.”

“Just like… How do you know if someone likes you?”

“I think that depends on the person,” Irene said, relieved.

“Uh,” Kamet said.

“I mean, is it someone I know?” Irene said. “I might be able to help you if it’s someone I know. But flirting is so individual, I can’t tell you anything helpful if some random person from your history class has a crush from you. But like, you can tell me if you’re asking about someone I know.” She was pretty sure that it was, in fact, someone she knew.

“Uh,” Kamet said again. Irene took a deep breath.

“Is the person maybe… a guy?” She made circles with her feet, looking down as she cracked her ankles. “Because that’s cool with me. I’m like… pretty sure I’m bi. So.” One of her ankles crunched loudly in the awkward silence. She looked up. Kamet was fixedly looking at a photo on the wall from last year’s performance of _The_ _Firebird_. He continued to look as the silence went on. Irene raised an eyebrow at him when he finally looked back at her.

“It’s Costis?” he offered.

“Oh, yeah,” Irene said. “He definitely has a crush on you.”

“Just like that!?” Kamet squawked. “You’re not even going to ask me what makes me think he might like me?”

“He’s my neighbor, I’ve known him since we were babies, and he used to have a crush on me so I know exactly what it looks like when he’s into someone.” Kamet looked briefly alarmed. “Don’t worry, I do think he’s kinda hot but I’m not interested, and I think he feels pretty much the same way about me.”

“Oh, good,” he said.

“Good?” Irene said, smirking and raising her eyebrow again. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

“Maybe!” Kamet said. “I don’t know! What are you going to do about Gen?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what are you going to do about Gen?”

“I don’t know, Irene, what _are_ you going to do about me?” Eugenides said from the doorway into the studio. Both Kamet and Irene jumped, and Kamet shrieked. Eugenides strolled across the room and pulled a small tote bag out from under a bench. “Forgot my water bottle,” he explained. “Nice earrings, by the way.” Irene reached up to touch her earrings. They were small ruby squares that went beautifully with her favorite necklace, and they’d appeared in her locker for her last birthday. She’d never figured out who put them there, and had decided not to ask, since she liked the air of mystery. Suddenly, she had some suspicions.

“Thanks,” Irene said flatly, taking the earrings out. Eugenides grimaced slightly, and looked away.

“Better get back to class,” he said, and left, taking his water bottle with him. Irene had a brief and horrifying moment where she noticed how good he looked in his practice clothes. She turned back to Kamet to see him glaring at her.

“What?” she said.

“That was mean,” he said.

“I didn’t! What! I didn’t say—”

“You implied,” Kamet said. “With your actions.” Irene sighed; right, he and Eugenides were childhood friends. He was going to be biased.

“I mean, if the earrings are from him, it’s a little weird to wear them,” Irene said.

“Is it?”

“Yes! Jewelry is a romantic gift! Wearing them would imply that I’m romantically interested in him.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No!” Irene said. “What makes you think that?”

“You just checked him out,” Kamet said. “I mean I don’t blame you, he looks great in his dance clothes, but…”

“Ugh,” Irene said, and the two sat in awkward silence until the beginning ballet students’ parents started trickling in to pick up their kids. Eventually the kids spilled out of the studio, laughing and yelling about dinosaurs in tutus. Irene automatically assumed that it was Eugenides’s fault.

“Your dad coming to pick you up too?” Irene said to Eugenides as he walked past the desk.

“My cousin, actually,” he said as Helen walked in the door. The ballet studio was right next to Attolis land, which was part of why there were so few Eddises who attended; Agape was the only one in the advanced class. The Eddises lived far enough away that walking wasn’t practical, and everyone knew that Eugenides still didn’t have his license.

“Hey Irene,” Helen said.

“Hi!” Irene said.

“I’ll just leave you two to it,” Eugenides said, scooping up his bag and heading out. Helen tossed him her keys and he caught them without looking.

“Don’t try to drive the car,” Helen said. “Just run the heat.” Irene looked at her. “I’m teaching him to drive,” Helen explained. “I think legally I’m not supposed to because I’m not a close enough relative or something, but me and Uncle Hector are the only ones who can keep from strangling him when he almost hits a tree again. And even then, it’s close for Uncle Hector some days.”

“I _did_ hit a tree when I first got my license,” Irene said, leaning in conspiratorially.

“No!”

“It’s true. It was my neighbors’ tree, and it was small and ornamental. But it was enough to put a dent in the car, and get some part of the underside stuck.”

“The Greenes?”

“No, the Ormentiedeses,” Irene said. “Costis and his dad used their truck to pull my car off their tree while Thalia laughed at me.”

“I can see that,” Helen said.

“Anyway, no one reported it to my insurance so it’s fine,” Irene said. “I just try not to go around telling people. Costis helped me get the dent out and bent the piece on the underside back into shape.”

“He is pretty handy,” Helen said. Eugenides stuck his head back in the door.

“Are you two done?” he said.

“We’ve been talking for two minutes!” Helen said. “Relax!” He scowled and left again.

“I should actually go, though,” Helen said. “As much as I hate to reward his bad behavior by actually doing what he asks me to.” Irene snorted. “Hey, listen, though—as the less-annoying cousin I wanted to ask if you’d consider coming back to another contra.”

“Why do you ask?” Irene said.

“Well,” Helen said, “I do have to admit that Gen asked me to ask you, but he was a little shit about it. _I’m_ asking because it seemed like you had fun, and I wanted to make sure you know that you’re welcome anytime, regardless of family feuds. You know, if you’re interested.” Irene could have sworn she saw Helen’s eyes flick to her bare earlobes for just a second before she continued talking. “No pressure though.”

“I might come,” Irene said, surprised at the words coming out of her mouth as she said them. “It did seem like it could maybe be fun.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Helen said, grinning. “I have your number, right?”

“I think so,” Irene said.

“Let me check,” Helen said, pulling out her phone. “Yep, this is you, right?” She turned her phone to Irene to show her the contact; the actual name was just a string of emoji (specifically a snake, a knife, and a sparkling heart) but the number was correct. “Sorry, Gen changed all my contact names. He has a flip phone so he goes a little buckwild when he gets ahold of mine and can use emoji.”

“That’s me,” Irene said, making the executive decision not to analyze the emoji. “I lost a bunch of contacts when my phone died a few months ago, text me your number?”

“Sure!” Helen said.

“Let’s go,” Eugenides moaned from where he was peering in around the door again. He started walking into the room.

“Eugenides,” Irene said, leaning around Helen slightly to better see him, “why on Earth do you have a flip phone?”

“Parkour,” Eugenides said, like that explained everything. It probably did.

“Sorry,” Helen said. “I have to chauffeur my baby cousin—”

“You are _two years and one month_ older than me!”

“—back home so he can play video games with his internet friends.”

“Don’t say it like that, they’re real people! You know half of them!”

“Have fun playing fake games online with fake people,” Irene said, smirking. Eugenides scowled at her and headed back towards the door, with Helen trailing after him. She shrugged at Irene, who waved goodbye.

“Gen,” Irene heard Helen say as the two exited, “did you ever actually go sit in the car, or were you just eavesdropping the whole time?”

-

There was no way around it; rehearsal that evening sucked. Irene wasn’t as warmed up as she’d like, and she was still distracted. They had just finished up with _The_ _Nutcracker_ —most of their better dancers had been part of a performance put on by a larger school in the nearest big city, which was 45 minutes away—and were starting to prepare for the spring showcase. Irene was going to be dancing as Myrtha in a scene from _Giselle_ , which she was excited for, if a little annoyed because of _course_ they cast the tall girl as Myrtha.

“Stop!” Phresine said. “Irene, what was that?”

“Um,” Irene said.

“You look bored, not intimidating!” Phresine said.

“To be fair, she does have RBF,” Chloe said. The other girls, who were playing the Wilis, turned to glare at her. She shrunk back. Kamet looked up from where he was taking a stretch break, since they’d already gone over the part of the scene he was in, and made a faintly disgusted face.

“That’s sexist, Chloe,” Irene said. “Would you tell a man he had resting bitch face?”

“That kind of thing does happen to men of color,” Kamet said.

“Fair point. A white man, though?”

“Nooo,” Chloe mumbled.

“Right, so then why would you say it to me?”

“I dunno.”

“Let’s call it a night,” Phresine said. Everyone turned to stare at her.

“Are you feeling okay?” Silla said. “Oh my gods, are you dying? You never let us leave early!”

“ _Silla_ ,” Phresine said, with dire warnings in her voice.

“Shut up before she changes her mind,” Imenia said.

“Go, go, go!” Ileia said in the tones of an action movie hero rushing her team into a combat situation. Most of the dancers started to pack up.

“Is everything okay?” Irene asked.

“It’s fine,” Phresine said. “You all just deserve a little break, and I think everyone’s out of sorts after the situation earlier this week with the heat and having to rehearse in an unfamiliar space. Also, you’re all giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” Irene and Kamet chorused. Phresine made a shooing motion and they wandered back into the lobby. A few parents were already waiting there, although most of the girls could drive or lived near enough to walk. Irene glanced at the clock; they hadn’t ended class quite as early as she’d thought, but some of the other dancers might have to wait for about twenty minutes. She should probably wait with them.

The door slammed open and Costis walked in, looking sheepish and glancing towards the wall that the doorknob had banged into.

“It does that sometimes,” Irene said.

“Glad it’s not just me,” Costis said. “Oh, hey Kamet.”

“Hey,” Kamet said.

Irene rolled her eyes (but only after she’d turned away, as was polite) and went to get her outside clothes on. She did not listen in on Costis and Kamet’s conversation, because unlike some people she knew that eavesdropping was rude. And anyway, the two of them had moved to stand in a corner and whisper, so it would have been way too hard for her to hear them.

Irene got dressed slowly, since she was waiting until everyone else had left. Phresine had headed out immediately because of her headache, so Irene was in charge of locking up, which she did semi-regularly anyway. Finally, only two girls were left, and Costis and Kamet were still in a corner. Irene was tired and hungry, so she finally caved.

“Hey,” she said, “guys. Are you two going to stay, or…?” Costis and Kamet looked at each other and shrugged. “Kamet, are you willing to lock up?”

“Sure,” he said, after glancing up at Costis.

“Great,” Irene said. “I need to go home and eat. Stay here and make sure the girls get back home and then you can lock up and head out.” She tossed the keys to Kamet and only realized that that was a bad idea as they left her hands. Luckily, Costis’s hand shot out in front of Kamet, grabbing the lanyard.

“I could’ve caught it,” Kamet said.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Costis said.

“I could be wearing contacts.”

“You never wear contacts in the evening if you can help it.”

“How do you _know_ that about me?” Kamet said. Irene stoically restrained herself from screaming in frustration at those two. At least until she was out the door and crunching through a snowy field, taking the shortcut back to her house and dreaming of all the fried eggs she was going to shove into her mouth before bed.

-

Two days later, the heat went out again. The frustrated repairman was summoned, swearing all the while that his fix should’ve been just fine. The ballet dancers clustered around Agape as she called her Uncle Hector to check if the town hall was free.

“He’s not picking up,” she said. “Which is kind of a bad sign in and of itself. Let me try Gen.”

The call went through and the people standing closest to Agape could faintly hear the strains of energetic fiddling leaking through the speakers. Irene swore under her breath.

“Gen?” Agape said, putting him on speakerphone. They could all hear the music now; Eugenides was definitely near a band playing the same kind of music they’d all heard at the dance before.

“What’s up?”

“You’re on speaker and I’m guessing the town hall isn’t free.”

“Will be in an hour,” Eugenides said. “Why? I thought you were at rehearsal?”

“The heat’s out again,” Agape said.

“Again?”

“Listen,” Irene interrupted. “We can’t keep skipping rehearsals. Do you promise you’ll all be out in an hour?”

“For you, of course,” Eugenides said.

“I’m not asking for _me_ ,” Irene said. “I’m asking for the good of the whole group.”

“It could have been a plural ‘you’,” Eugenides said, “you can’t tell anymore since English doesn’t have a separate word for that.”

“I know, I know, kids these days with their imprecise language,” Irene said. “Thanks for volunteering to herd your belligerent cousins out of the town hall.”

“Ugh,” Eugenides said feelingly, and hung up.

“Romantic,” Agape said, so perfectly neutral that Irene honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “He’s willing to wrangle our cousins for you.”

“I will sneak into your house and steal all of your left shoes,” Irene said.

“Too late, Gen did that to me last week. I’m immune now!”

-

The assorted Eddises, cousins, etc. were—as promised—on the way out of the town hall when the ballet dancers tumbled out of Iolanthe and Imenia’s respective borrowed-from-their-family minivans. Phresine pulled up a moment later in her truck.

“Why do you have to drive like that?” Kamet asked Iolanthe plaintively. He was always allowed to call shotgun, since he got carsick, but sitting up front only helped so much when a driver lurched around like Iolanthe did.

“Car needs fixing,” she said.

“But you _always_ drive like that!” Kamet wailed, before brightening visibly as he spotted someone over Iolanthe’s shoulder. “Oh, hey Costis!” Irene raised an eyebrow. There was a new level of warmth in Kamet’s tone, and he and Costis hugged for a few seconds longer than seemed platonic… She suspected that the two of them had finally talked when she’d left them in the studio the other night. Thank goodness. If only it could be that easy (several months of pining aside) for everyone.

The ballet dancers trickled into the town hall, eager to get into a slightly warmer environment before their muscles tensed up too much from the January cold. Since the space was mostly deserted—the miscellaneous folk dancers were loudly congregating outside and discussing some variety of sports—they went ahead and started to get the space set up for rehearsal. Irene, however, was too busy staring at two of the people who were still left in the town hall.

“Is that my cousin Pheris?” Irene said to no one in particular. “What’s he doing here?”

“He likes the patterns,” Agape said, from behind her. Irene jumped.

“What patterns?”

“The dances make patterns,” Agape said. “Like, you know, you break away from your partner and you do this whole separate thing, and then you come back to them at just the right time. Or the way that you and your partner move down the line to the next group of people to dance with. It’s pretty cool. Your cousin is _way_ into it. He told me all about it one time, the kid has a really interesting perspective. He sometimes joins in early in the evening when we do the easier dances and I think he’s learning some of the harder ones too. Gen told me he’s been doing really well.”

“I had no idea,” Irene said. Pheris was sitting on the stage, legs dangling, hunched over a notebook. Hector Eddis was crouching on the stage behind him, pointing at something that Pheris had written down. Pheris shook his head. Hector said something else, tapping whatever was written on Pheris’s notebook, and Pheris slapped his hand away. Irene started forward to defend him, but Hector just laughed and put his hands up to signal that he would stop touching whatever Pheris had been working on.

Pheris flipped to a new page and scrawled something across it, glaring at Hector. He nodded and replied—Irene could hear part of what he was saying, something about the flow of movement.

“Are your uncle and my cousin… friends?” Irene asked Agape. Chloe snorted, and they both turned to look at her.

“He’s learning to choreograph dances,” Chloe said. Irene had no idea how to respond to that. “He told me he likes how the patterns work so much that he wants to try making his own.”

“What?” Irene said, as Chloe flounced over to the stage to flop down next to Pheris. He immediately flipped her off and she cackled, while Hector looked on disapprovingly. “What?” Irene said again.

“I don’t understand those two,” Agape said. “Their entire friendship is just them competing to be as rude to each other as possible. It’s weird.”

“They’re _friends_?” Irene said, feeling like she was lagging several seconds behind the rest of the conversation. Pheris looked up and waved at her, and she waved back, because despite being kind of an asshole he was also her favorite cousin. “How did I miss that?”

“Irene,” Heiro said warmly, “you are a lovely person, if sometimes kind of a weird, intense nerd, and we love you very much and know you care about people.” The other assembled ballet dancers nodded.

“But…” Silla said.

“You’re not very observant,” Imenia said. “Like, with emotional things.”

“What?” Irene said again.

“It’s okay,” Agape said. “We all have our flaws.”

“Hey!” Irene said. “I noticed Costis and Kamet!”

“You did?” Kamet said, having joined the other dancers.

“Everyone noticed Costis and Kamet,” Heiro said. “People on the International Space Station noticed Costis and Kamet.”

“Oh no,” Kamet said. Costis, who was lurking across the hall and trying not to be in the way, noticed Kamet’s distress and began to wander over.

“It’s okay, we’d all kill for you,” Heiro said.

“I’d happily knife a homophobe,” Caeta added.

“Thanks, guys,” Kamet said. “Please don’t stab people for me, though.”

“The point is,” Agape said, “sometimes you don’t notice these things. And that’s okay! But it can lead to some awkward situations.”

“Is this an intervention?” Irene said.

“No!” Agape said.

“Yeah,” Silla said. Most of the other dancers nodded. Kamet gingerly patted Irene’s arm.

“Okay fine so I didn’t realize that my cousin was friends with Agape’s uncle, but that’s just one isolated incident!”

“Silla and I broke up three months ago,” Caeta said.

“You were _dating_!?”

“Also, like…” Agape said, trying to subtly nod towards something off to the side of the room. (It was not at all subtle.) Irene glanced in the direction that Agape had indicated and saw that Eugenides was leaning against the doorframe of one of the little side rooms, arms crossed, looking at her with what could only be described as—yikes—fondness. Irene wished he’d put that facial expression away before something horribly embarrassing for the both of them happened.

Eugenides noticed Irene looking at him and straightened up. He began to walk towards her, then glanced at something across the room and looked alarmed. He ducked away.

Irene turned to see what had scared Eugenides so badly; it was Phresine, storming towards the dancers, with her phone held up to her ear.

“I understand,” Phresine was saying, “that you want to defend your work, but—” The sounds of self-righteous male discontent carried over the phone’s speakers. “What do you mean there’s absolutely no way it happened on its own? Are you suggesting someone damaged the studio’s heating on purpose? Why on Earth is that the first thing that occurs to you?”

Irene looked back at the door that Eugenides had just disappeared through; out of the corner of her eye, she could see Costis blushing bright red and trying to edge away from the group of ballet dancers. Kamet reached out grabbed Costis’s arm to stop him, which had roughly the same effect as a small kitten trying to maim a Great Dane. Kamet trailed after Costis, hissing questions at him, as Costis blushed darker and darker.

“What do you mean it would be simple to sabotage?” Phresine said, still on the phone. “How can you be so sure that it isn’t just broken?” Irene began to make her own escape, heading in the same direction that Eugenides had. Unobservant, was she? Clearly something was going on here, and she knew _exactly_ what it was. She was going to get to the bottom of this.


	2. Chapter Two

Naturally, because things were never easy when Eugenides was involved, Irene’s convictions led to her screaming at him outside the town hall in front of a crowd of interested folk dancers.

“I don’t know what kind of stupid little competitive game you’re playing,” she said, “and I can’t believe you’re still mad about an argument we had, what? Two years ago?”

“I think it was more like a year and a half,” Eugenides said. Irene growled. “Alright, fine, not relevant. Anyway, this is ridiculous—I never sabotaged the studio! I dance there too now!”

He seemed perfectly sincere—wounded by her accusation, confused by why she would say it, also affected by the lack of heat in the studio… Irene’s eyes narrowed as she played back what Eugenides had said, analyzing how he’d emphasized the words. “And anyway,” Eugenides continued, “how could I possibly damage the heating system with only one hand? I’m sure you need two for holding, I don’t know, wrenches and things.”

“You are the most deviously capable person I know, regardless of how many hands you have,” Irene snapped.

“Aw,” Eugenides said.

“You said _you_ never sabotaged the studio!” Irene said, realizing what had caught her attention as Eugenides spoke. She remembered Costis’s embarrassed blush. “You suborned my neighbor!” Eugenides silently mouthed the word “suborned” and shook his head in wonder. “Costis is handy,” Irene said, “I bet he knows exactly how to disable our heating system. What the hell did you give him to convince him of that?”

“His heart’s desire?” Eugenides offered.

“What does—Kamet? What the hell, you can’t give him a person!” Irene looked around for something to throw at him out of sheer indignation on her fellow ballet dancer’s behalf, but the only option was the pair of warmup booties she was currently wearing, which wouldn’t pack much of a punch.

“If I explain, will you stop yelling at me?”

“So you admit that you got Costis to sabotage the heating system at the ballet studio? And you claim you somehow gave him an entire person in exchange?”

“Just answer the question!”

“Fine,” Irene said, crossing her arms. “But I reserve the right to yell more, if it seems necessary.”

“I just gave him advice,” Eugenides said. “And I told Kamet to go talk to you, because I knew you’d tell him to suck it up, since your advice for other people’s love lives is surprisingly good, considering.”

“Ouch,” Irene said, while trying to decide whether or not she was actually hurt by that. “So you gave Costis boy advice just so he’d break the heating system?”

“I did also point out that it meant the ballet dancers would likely come to the town hall each time it happened,” Eugenides said. “And that if he was _also_ at the town hall he would be able to talk to Kamet.”

“Devious,” Irene said, impressed despite herself. “But why would you go through all this trouble over an argument about types of dance?”

“Um,” said Eugenides.

“I’m willing to admit that your folk dancing is also very interesting, and you’ve started taking ballet, so what’s the problem here? Is it about the family feud? I thought us enlightened young folk weren’t supposed to care about that anymore.”

“Oh would you look at that I have to go Helen’s calling me,” Eugenides said, immediately slipping away behind two of his burly cousins. Said cousins didn’t actively stop Irene from chasing after him, but they did stand there looking polite and muscular; Irene knew she would find her way inexplicably blocked if she tried to follow Eugenides.

-

“Fuck!” Irene said, sitting bolt upright in her bed at 3 A.M. as she finally put _some_ of the pieces together.

-

Irene was nervous, which was a situation she usually tried to avoid; the fact that she had chosen not to avoid it this time made her distinctly grumpy. She screamed and threw the third skirt of the night across her bedroom. This one was too long, while the other two (which she normally wore for ballet class) were too short. Maybe a dress? The purple one?

After another hour of deliberation, she realized she was going to be late. At least she’d finally picked something to wear. She quickly put her earrings in, yanked her boots on, and grabbed her car keys. She didn’t have time to put her hair up, so she slid a hair tie onto her wrist so she could do it later. Her parents were out for a date night, so she didn’t even have to lie to them about where she was going. (Not because she was doing anything bad, but simply because she had to maintain a sense of dignity.)

She hunched forward as she drove, attempting to glare the road into submission. The only thing that Irene hated more than driving in general was driving in the winter, especially on tiny back roads. This was a problem, as the town was made of tiny back roads. Luckily—or unluckily—it was a short drive to the town hall. There were lights in all the windows, and she could hear the music from where she was parked. Irene sat in her car and stared at the building. Several minutes passed.

“This is stupid,” she remarked. “No one actually cares about the family thing. Your cousin is probably in there right now.” She did not convince herself. “Contra dancing is basically the cool thing to do in this town anyway. No one’s going to judge you. Okay, they won’t judge you _much_.”

The car was getting cold, and turning it back on just to run the heater so she could continue to sit there felt undignified.

Finally, Irene got out, locked her doors, and strode into the town hall. A light snow was falling, melting as soon as it hit her skin, so that it felt more like cool rain. It was bracing, in a good way.

Her courage almost deserted her as soon as she got in the door, but several people were chatting in the entryway and she would look silly if she turned around and left now. She put her coat and outside shoes down at coat check, peeled off her long underwear leggings, and pulled on her least-holey pair of canvas ballet slippers, smoothing her dress down as she straightened back up. She had picked the purple one after all. Finally, holding her school ID card, she entered the main room.

“Welcome!” said the massive man sitting behind the folding table at the entrance. It was a different massive man from before. Possibly this one was even bigger. “The entrance fee is pay-what-you-can, or free if you’re under 12, over 70, or a student. All the money goes straight back into paying for the band, the caller, and the refreshments.”

“Here,” Irene said, thrusting her student ID at him.

“Alright, great, high school student,” he said, making a note on an attendance sheet. “Would you like to join our email list?” he asked her.

“Maybe later,” Irene said.

“Great, and is this your first time here?”

“…No,” Irene said, which was technically true.

“Then have a good time!” the man said, waving her towards the dancers. The crowd was still small—even though Irene had run behind schedule, she was only late according to her usually-punctual standards. They were all in two long lines, facing each other, and a couple (both of them flushed and smiling) was galloping down the aisle in between the other dancers. It looked ridiculous, and also very fun.

Eugenides’s dad wasn’t the one yelling—sorry, calling—tonight. Instead, it was Eugenides’s oldest sister, Euphemia. His brother, Stenides, was playing a guitar in the band. Irene shook her head. Who the hell gave their kids rhyming names like that? She didn’t see Eugenides anywhere, which probably meant he was sneaking up behind her.

He was.

Luckily, he didn’t do anything stupid like tap her on the shoulder or say “boo!” since she would’ve decked him if he’d tried.

“What are you doing here?” he said. He was dressed more casually this time, in pants and a faded T-shirt advertising a dance festival. Eugenides had rolled the (already short) sleeves of the T-shirt up just a bit, a ridiculous embellishment that he somehow made look good. He didn’t have any kind of prosthetic on tonight, silly costume hook or otherwise, although he was still wearing the ugly “I dance both roles!” pin.

“It’s a free country,” Irene said. “I’ve heard so much about how wonderful contra dancing is, I thought I should check it out myself.”

“Really?” Eugenides said.

“Really,” Irene said. “Do you have a partner for the next dance?” Eugenides gaped at her. “Hello?” Irene said, narrowly restraining herself from waving a hand in front of his eyes, suspecting that he might try to bite her if she did it. Although she kind of wanted to see him try, just for the sake of comedy—her reflexes were excellent. “Anyone home?”

“Fine,” he said. “Yeah. Yeah I wanted to talk to you. This reel is almost over, we can dance the next one.”

“Cool,” Irene said. She crossed her arms and then uncrossed them, since she thought that it might make her look mad when she did that. She glanced sideways at Eugenides to see if he had noticed, but he was staring at the dancers.

“Cool,” Eugenides said.

They stood in silence while the reel finished up. Irene looked around the hall to see if Costis was here, because she was hoping to take a moment out of her busy schedule to go yell at him. She thought she caught a glimpse of him in among the dancers, but she couldn’t be sure. Eugenides started frantically jiggling his leg a few seconds into the wait.

“Oh,” he said as people started to sort themselves out for the next dance. “I don’t want to assume, do you want to lead or follow?”

“I’ve never done this before, obviously I’m following,” Irene said. “I’m going to learn to lead though.”

“You’re going to come back?” Eugenides said. He was definitely feeling some kind of strong emotion about that, but Irene had no idea what it was. She shrugged. “Okay,” he said, “well I don’t know how much you’ve picked up just from watching a little bit here and there—”

“Some,” Irene said.

“—but if you’re following, you’re going to be on my right side a lot of the time, which obviously means we have to adapt some stuff. I usually just have people put their hand on my forearm, if you’re comfortable with that? Or if you’re not close enough to me, like if you don’t make it to the right place in time, you can just hold your hand out.”

“That’s fine,” Irene said, then realized that she sounded too neutral. “I don’t care,” she added. “I mean, uh, I’m not—” She gave up. “It’s fine,” she repeated. Eugenides politely ignored her fumbling and continued with his explanation.

“And when we swing—which isn’t anything like swing dancing, it’s just shuffling in a circle—I’m uh…” It was hard to tell, but it looked like Eugenides might be blushing a little.

“Go on,” Irene said, raising an eyebrow, intensely interested in anything that might make Eugenides blush.

“I’m going to have to hold you a little closer than most dancers would since I have to get part of my forearm behind your back to keep us both from falling over. But you’ll have to make sure you hold on with your left hand because I won’t be able to get as good of a grip without getting _way_ too close.”

“That’s fine,” Irene said. “As long as you don’t get handsy.” She winced, her stomach dropping. “Oh no, I didn’t mean—” Eugenides threw his head back and cackled, the light catching on the line of his throat.

“Well I _definitely_ won’t get handsy,” he said. He grinned broadly, his dimples showing. “Also when we swing, look at my ear or face or something so you don’t get motion sick. It feels really awkward but I’ll be doing it too. Oh and that side of the hall by the band is called the top, and the other side is the bottom. That’s all I can think of. Euphemia will walk us through a few times before we go with music and it’s all self-explanatory. I think. I’ve been doing this so long I don’t know what it’s like for a beginner.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Irene said.

“Form up, long lines, follow on the right!” Euphemia called. “Take hands four from the top!” Eugenides and Irene slipped into one of the two sets of lines. They were the third couple from the top, which meant that they were facing the bottom of the hall. Irene was already on Eugenides’s right side but the couple across from them—two out-of-towners—had to switch around, since they were facing the other way. The four of them held hands (more or less) in a circle. “Alright, stop holding hands with these people,” Euphemia said. “Everyone in groups of four?” Various people nodded. “Now wave to your neighbor.” The man standing across from Irene waved at her, and she waved back. “We’re going to start with a swing with your neighbor, so balance and swing.” The “balance” part involved sort of jumping towards her “neighbor” and away, while holding hands, for arcane and probably momentum-related reasons. Irene walked in a circle with her neighbor, trying to get her feet to be in the right place at the right time. She mostly failed, but he seemed understanding.

“Now followers chain, and leads catch your partner with a courtesy turn.” The woman of the couple, who had just stopped dancing with Eugenides, held her right hand towards Irene like she was going for a handshake. Irene took the cue and grabbed it, and the woman leaned back, pulling her along with surprising force. Just as the woman was letting go, Irene realized that she should have leaned back too. She came out of it a little too fast and was launched towards Eugenides. His eyes widened, and he put out his arms to catch her. She managed to slow her momentum just enough that she didn’t completely bowl him over, but the two of them were momentarily caught in the world’s awkwardest hug. Irene had plenty of time to notice that Gen was surprisingly muscular, and that he smelled nice, which she promptly felt ridiculous about. They both sprang away; Eugenides had the air of a startled cat, and Irene suspected she wasn’t much better. She brushed herself down just so she had something to do with her hands.

“Uh,” she said. What felt like a very long silence ensued. “What do we do next?”

“Courtesy turn,” he said, snapping out of it. “Put your left hand up reaching behind your shoulder and your right hand back behind your lower back. It’s called promenade position.”

“Nothing like a promenade in ballet,” Irene noted as he stood partway behind her and to her left, putting his left hand in hers and laying his right forearm in her right hand. He turned her and they were facing the other couple—who were waiting impatiently for them to get into position—again.

“Now take hands and circle to the left four places, all the way around.” Irene got a late start and had to strain to reach Eugenides’s forearm. Walking in a circle was surprisingly awkward and she noticed that the other woman was doing some kind of grapevine thing that looked like it would be graceful as long as you didn’t trip. “Pass through, go by the right shoulder of your neighbor.” This meant that Irene switched places with the man she’d danced with a minute ago. She was now standing to the left of Eugenides. “And swing,” Euphemia said. Irene did the same awkward hop—somehow she couldn’t time it right, even though she thought she could tell how it should work—and started walking in a circle with Eugenides. She had perhaps _underestimated_ how close she would have to get to him for this. She stared at his ear.

“If you want to do more of the shuffle thing,” he said, “you don’t move your right foot much and you kind of… push with your left foot, if that makes sense.” She tried it.

“Weirdly, that’s more like a ballet promenade,” she said, as they finished the swing with her standing on the right again.

“And another chain,” Euphemia said, and this time Irene remembered to lean back and put a little force into it. Her momentum pulled her easily towards her neighbor, who caught her and turned her smoothly. So _that_ was how it was supposed to work; she understood what her cousin Pheris saw in this. It was all very neat and tidy when you followed the patterns. “Next is a right-and-left through,” Euphemia said. Several dancers, including the ones she and Eugenides were paired up with, started to move. “Now hold on, hold on!” Euphemia said. “This one is confusing for newer dancers.”

“Especially ones who missed the lesson,” Gen stage-whispered to Irene. She snorted—he wasn’t wrong, although she thought she was doing well overall.

“Leads, stay where you are for a second. Let’s start with the follows. You’re going to walk towards your other follow kind of like you’re doing a chain, except you’re going to pass by left— _left_ —check which hand is which if you have to—shoulders. Let’s just do that part first.” Irene stepped forward and started to pass the other woman. “Now, you’re going to start to pass your partner by the right shoulder.” Irene and Eugenides did so. It felt oddly dramatic to Irene, like they were dueling nemeses circling each other before a fight. Or before some sort of tense dance number, which she supposed was more accurate. She stared at his ear again. “Then, as you’re doing that, get ready to go into another courtesy turn. Leads, you have to take a big step to the side so that you’re still on the left as you scoop your partner up.” Irene felt Gen move to do so; she put her hands back in the same position as before and he was already there to grab them. “Then the two of you are going to step up or down the set, depending on which way you’re facing, and you’ll meet your new neighbors.” The two of them took just a couple neat steps and they were facing the next pair—they looked like an Eddis cousin and one of Helen’s punk college friends who had come home with her.

Euphemia ran them all through the entire dance one more time, slowly and without music, and Irene felt like she was mostly getting the hang of it. She still didn’t quite understand how the right-and-left through worked out from the lead’s perspective—which was important, since she was planning to learn how to lead herself—but she figured she could make Eugenides show it to her later. The two of them passed on to a new couple, who Irene recognized.

“Kamet? Costis?” she said to her new neighbor, and his partner, who was also her neighbor but not in a contra dance way. This was a confusing piece of terminology to use when you were dancing in a small town. Costis flinched a little when she said his name.

“Irene?” Kamet said.

“What are you doing here?” she said, then glanced at his choice of partner and realized that the answer to that question was obvious. “How long have you been coming?”

“This is my first time,” he said, “but I came early for the lesson.” And with that, the music started playing.

“Alright!” said Euphemia over the first few beats. “This dance is the Cedar Street Shuffle! And neighbors balance and swing!”

Kamet definitely wasn’t as good as Gen for compensating for the height difference, so he and Irene awkwardly walked in a circle and then had to rush a little to be back in the right place.

“Costis doesn’t dance at all,” he explained apologetically. “So between the two of us…” Irene nodded.

“Hi Costis,” Irene said meaningfully as they grabbed each other’s hands and switched sides. Costis looked like he wanted to vomit when he looked at her, but he was very careful not to send Irene flying, despite the fact that he was pretty much solid muscle. Then everyone circled and Irene was back with Eugenides for their first time swinging with the actual music. She remembered to do the little shuffling thing, and they started going faster. Irene stared fixedly at Eugenides’s ear, worried that actually looking at his face would be weird and intimate. Her feet were sliding; the wood floor didn’t have enough traction for the soles of her canvas ballet slippers.

“Lean back!” he said, startling her into looking at him. “I know it seems weird,” he said, “but it’s actually easier that way.” She leaned back just a little bit before the swing ended and found to her surprise that it was. Something about momentum or centrifugal force, she was pretty sure.

“Hi Irene,” Costis said with a hangdog expression as they grabbed each other’s hands and switched sides for the second time. Then, before Irene knew it, she and Eugenides were on to the next couple, getting ready to dance with two unfamiliar women. The woman Irene was dancing with was brisk and businesslike, obviously skilled, and she absolutely nailed the timing. By the time Irene was back to swinging with Eugenides, she thought she was getting the hang of this, and she felt herself smiling just a little as the two of them spun. That being said, it was taking a lot of muscle control on her part to keep from sliding everywhere.

“You’re picking this up very well,” Gen said.

“I may have done some research,” Irene admitted, back to staring at his ear.

“You did?”

“I watched several YouTube videos and read one glossary of terms. It wasn’t very helpful.”

They were separated by the dance for a few counts.

“Well then, you must be a natural,” Gen said as the two of them progressed on to the next couple.

“I did actually want to talk to you,” Irene said after a few counts, the next time she and Eugenides were back together for a swing. She could feel him tense up under her hand.

“I know,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s about Helen, isn’t it?”

“What?” Irene said, but then they were separated by the dance. “What about Helen?” Irene managed to hiss to Eugenides in the few counts they had together before starting over with a new couple. She smiled politely at the person she had as her neighbor before they swung, then did the “chain” with the other follower.

“You like her, right?” Eugenides managed to say as he scooped her up in the turn. Then all four of them circled to the left, giving Irene plenty of time to feel confused.

“She’s nice?” Irene said as she and Eugenides started their next swing. “We’re not best friends or anything, but she’s cool. Why? I know you two are close. Is that why you’re worried I don’t like her?”

“Wait,” Eugenides said. “Do you mean you’re not into my cousin?”

“What?” Irene said, pulling away a little to look him in the face. Gen seemed genuinely confused by _her_ confusion, although she thought there might be a hopeful light in his eyes. He pulled away a little as well to balance her, but then looked alarmed and hastily let go, switching the two of them around so that they were in the right place for the next part of the dance. Irene did the chain and the right-and-left through on autopilot, which meant that she did go in the wrong direction for the latter and cause a bit of a traffic jam in the middle of the set. “Let me think for a second,” she told Eugenides as the two of them moved to the next couple.

Irene scowled as she moved through the dance in silence, which terrified her new neighbor, although she barely noticed. Did she have a crush on Helen? Her first instinct was that that would be absurd, and she started to feel angry with Gen, but what had he seen that had made him think that? She and Helen had danced together, but that didn’t automatically mean anything. After all, she was dancing with—oh. Well. Fair point.

She supposed that the two of them had smiled and chatted a lot, but that had been about Gen. It had felt sometimes like Helen was trying to warn Irene away from her cousin, but at other times like she was pushing them together. Helen Eddis was a woman of opaque motives and Irene wasn’t sure she’d ever figure her out.

“Still thinking,” Irene told Eugenides as they moved on to the next couple. He grimaced, but managed to restrain himself from saying anything rash.

Had Helen been pushing Irene away from Eugenides? Irene felt several emotions about that, mostly confusing and negative, but not all.

“Holy shit,” Irene said as she and Gen came back together to swing. “I’m attracted to your cousin!” So much for not outing herself; in the space of about a week she’d told both Kamet and Gen. Gen’s face fell.

“But that’s not the point,” Irene said hastily. “I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“I’m at your service,” Gen said, so clearly sarcastic that Irene all but felt the air blister between them.

“I don’t want to date your _cousin_ ,” Irene said as the two of them broke away.

“Why not?” Gen said as the two of them moved on to the next couple; Irene could see that they were approaching the end of the hall. “Helen’s great,” he said loyally, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

The dance split them apart again; Irene found herself dancing with another neighbor-who-was-also-literally-a-neighbor.

“How’s it going?” Aris asked her.

“Men,” Irene muttered darkly. Aris had the grace not to look too offended. She chained back across the set with Aris’s partner. “You can still be attracted to someone and not want to date them,” Irene told Gen as he turned her before they rejoined the other couple in a circle. She passed through the set and returned to Gen. “You do know that, right?”

“So you _don’t_ want to date my cousin?” Gen said as he pulled her in to balance their swing. He was smiling a little, but he still seemed baffled. Irene rolled her eyes at Gen’s seeming inability to notice crucial details. Then she froze, almost stopping the swing, when she realized she was missing her own crucial detail; she could still see dark curls in her peripheral vision.

“Shit!” she said. “I forgot to put my hair up!” Gen made a face of faux-polite confusion (instead of his previous, real confusion—the difference was amusingly plain) at this non-sequitur. “Don’t let me fall,” Irene told him as she let go of first his shoulder and then his hand, moving in closer. She had seen some couples swinging rather intimately by getting so close that they didn’t have to hold on as tightly. As Gen had warned her, they were already dancing close together because of his hand; she didn’t have to shift too much. She leaned her upper body back farther as Gen moved his right arm down to her lower back and moved his left hand to the back of her shoulder; she didn’t want to elbow him in the face. The change in balance brought the lower halves of their bodies closer together than Irene had anticipated. She blushed, which she knew was much more obvious on her than it was on Gen. He had very _nice_ legs.

If she had thought about it before letting go, Irene would have assumed that dancing like this would feel precarious, with her feet sliding everywhere. But somehow, with Gen holding her up, she felt solid and grounded. There could be an earthquake (not that it was likely here in New England) and the two of the could keep dancing through it for as long as they pleased.

She reached up, her heart pounding in her ears as she began to pile her hair (why did she have so _much_?) into a messy bun. She kept her eyes on Gen’s face, and saw the exact moment that he realized why she was behaving so oddly. Irene looked down, embarrassed by the naked emotion on his face, but then looked back immediately; she couldn’t bear it if he took her embarrassment the wrong way.

It felt as if the room stood still around them as Irene tied off her bun with the hairtie she’d brought for this exact purpose and then forgotten about. She waited for Gen to say something, but he just moved automatically, his mouth open. Irene was surprised by how effectively she’d shut him up. She licked her lips and immediately felt her face heat even more than it already had from the dancing and earlier awkwardness as Gen looked down at her mouth.

“I like the earrings very much,” she said. “And it occurred to me that what holds true for Costis and Kamet must hold true for us as well.”

Gen began to respond, but then looked behind her; his eyes widened in panic as he hastily spun Irene out of the swing just in time for the two of them to rejoin the dance.

“You had Costis sabotage the heat to get me to come here,” Irene said as they moved on to the last couple in line. “Not because you were trying to annoy me. Or at least, not _just_.”

No matter how hard she tried, later, Irene could never remember the rest of the dance. She and Gen had still had to dance with that last couple, and Irene could only assume that she’d made a mess of things. She was feeling an uncomfortable mix of emotions, primarily anxiety that Gen still hadn’t said anything. At the end of the set, Gen finally spoke, but not to her.

“Sorry!” he called to the couple approaching the two of them. “We’re actually dropping out, there’s an emergency.” His cousin Agape was one half of said couple and she began to look concerned. “Not a bad emergency!” he added.

“Gen!” Agape yelled, frustrated, as he began to lead Irene away. Irene looked over her shoulder and realized that the two of them dropping out meant that Agape and her partner had to wait the dance out for a new couple to come and complete their group of four.

“Are you ever going to say something?” Irene asked, trying to sound mildly curious instead of intensely anxious, as Gen led her through one of the little doors that bordered the main room, still holding her hand. She found herself in a kitchenette, where trays of food were laid out for the snack break in the middle of the contra. There was also one woman filling up her water bottle, but she retreated as the two of them entered; the door swung closed behind her, muffling the music slightly and making the space more private. Gen dropped her hand, which he’d been holding until then, and Irene frowned.

“You’re the one who can’t use her words,” Gen said, turning to her and smiling. “I did like the dramatic gesture, though.” Irene decided that he was sincere about enjoying the drama, and made a mental note for future reference. She very much wanted to have the opportunity to _use_ those “for future reference” notes. Gen backed up against the counter and gracefully hopped onto it, only using his left hand and leg muscles. The extra boost of height still didn’t quite make him as tall as her, although they were close to being even. Gen looked momentarily put out about this. She stepped forward and leaned one hand on the counter so that their faces were closer together; only reasonable considering that the background noise of the music was still fairly loud, even with the door shut.

“Whenever I use my words I just end up being kind of mean to you,” Irene said ruefully. “Even when I’m not planning on it.”

“Communication is important,” Gen said solemnly, leaning forward as well. He cracked a grin. “But it is kinda hot when you’re m—”

“Oh shut _up_ ,” Irene said, taking him at his word and dragging him in by his stupid graphic tee to kiss him. She froze just before their lips met, feeling a sudden pang of doubt. Maybe he had just been joking?

Gen leaned up one more inch and touched his lips to hers. Irene closed her eyes just in time—something she always worried about—and then forgot to worry about anything else. She and Gen had only kissed once before, that time two years ago, but this time it felt immediately comforting and familiar, like coming home. She stepped forward, moving closer to deepen the kiss, but then realized that Gen was tapping on her side with his left hand. Irene broke away, worrying that she’d done something wrong, only to see that Gen was looking off to the side. She followed his gaze to see her cousin Pheris standing just inside the door she and Gen had entered from, looking grossed out. Irene groaned and rested her head on Gen’s shoulder.

“Alright, what can we bribe you with not to tell anyone?” Gen said to Pheris. Irene shut her eyes. “I’m not embarrassed,” Gen said to her, “but you know we infamously dislike each other and I assume you don’t want your cousin to immediately go tell everyone that he found us kissing in the kitchenette in the middle of a contra dance.”

“Fair point,” Irene said, picking her head up off of Gen’s shoulder and looking at her cousin. Pheris opened up his pocket notebook and started writing, and Irene told herself for the five hundredth time that she really needed to start taking ASL classes. She would do it next fall when she went to college, she decided. Really. For the language requirement.

“What does that say?” Gen said, not having learned the fine familial art of deciphering Pheris’s handwriting just yet.

“Alright, what if you keep it secret for a week?” Irene said to Pheris. “He said he refuses to keep it secret forever,” she told Gen while Pheris wrote. “He has a blog, apparently.”

“Uh-oh,” Gen said, amused, as Pheris passed Irene another note. Irene read it.

“Unlimited access to your gaming computer,” she told Gen.

“ _Limited_ access to my gaming computer,” Gen counteroffered. “And you have to tell me what you’re doing with it at some point.” Pheris pondered this, then stuck out his left hand and shook solemnly with Gen. He disappeared back through the kitchenette door.

“You may regret that,” Irene said. “He’s probably going to run some weird math simulation that eats all of your computer’s memory.”

“I don’t think I will,” Gen said absently, head cocked. “Regret it, that is.” Irene began to lean back in. “Hold on,” he said. “The music stopped. People are going to come in here any second now. And I’m pretty sure the next song is the waltz, which means…”

“People will definitely be coming in here for the food,” Irene said, sighing and stepping back. She held out her right hand, palm up. “Shall we?”

Gen hopped lightly off the counter and eyed her hand suspiciously before placing his left hand on top of it, palm down.

“You’re leading?” he said.

“I won’t be able to do anything fancy,” Irene said, “but I think I can manage.”

The two of them slipped out of the kitchenette, hand in hand, as several volunteers moved in to get the food ready for the snack break. They stepped out onto the dance floor and Irene managed a respectable twirl to get Gen into position. With him following and her leading, his left hand was on the back of her shoulder while his right arm was up. After a moment of dithering, Irene grasped his right forearm gently in her left hand.

“This okay?” she said.

“Perfect,” Gen said as they began to step in time to the music. This was a much more comfortable way to dance for Irene, since her arms had been in a slightly awkward position when waltzing with Helen. Plus, she liked being in charge of where she and her partner were going next.

“So like,” Gen said, looking up through his eyelashes, “do you _like_ me? Check ‘yes’ or ‘hell yes’.”

“Yes,” Irene said, smiling down at him tolerantly. “Even when you say things like that.”

“Clearly you have excellent taste.”

“Clearly.”

“And you really like the earrings?”

“They match my favorite necklace, they were a mysterious and romantic present, and then they were—even better—an unmysterious and romantic present from someone I like. So yes, I really like the earrings.”

“Cool,” Gen said, looking down at his feet and smiling. It brought out his dimples again, which was unfair and probably bad for Irene’s health. She twirled him and managed to get him back in time for the two of them to keep their rhythm. “So are we dating, or…?”

“I _hope_ so!” Irene said. “I predict that sneaking around kissing each other in kitchenettes will only be fun for a few days, especially since we’ll have to dodge your giant family.”

“They’ve placed bets,” Gen said gloomily.

“You should’ve found out what they were betting on and gotten someone to cut you in,” Irene said. “Then you could’ve made whatever they’d put their money on happen.”

“Eh,” Gen said. “I was just about to try to give up, actually. I thought that you were into Helen and I should stop annoying you, even if it sometimes seemed like you were flirting back.”

“In hindsight, I probably was,” Irene said. “It just took me a while to notice. As my dear, supportive friends so kindly pointed out, I’m a little oblivious to people’s emotions. Including my own.”

“So wait, did you not realize I was trying to flirt with you?” Gen said.

“In my defense,” Irene said, “you do _not_ flirt like a normal person. You know most of us grew out of the ‘pulling your pigtails’ form of flirting, oh, ten years ago, right?”

“ _You_ didn’t.” Irene opened her mouth, trying to think of a decent rebuttal.

“Fair point,” she said, steering the two of them away from a couple who were getting a little too enthusiastic about twirls. “So where do you want to go for a date? Bear in mind that I have a car so we’re not limited to staying in town.”

“Hot,” Gen said.

“Me having a car?” Irene said.

“You in general, but especially you driving me places so I don’t always have to ask my family.”

“Great,” Irene said, only a little bit sarcastic. “So, for a date, where do you want me to chauffeur you? Any ideas? Otherwise I’ll just pick a movie.”

“Minigolf,” Gen said immediately.

“Seriously?” Irene said, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Minigolf_.”

“Why?”

“It appeals to me on a deep, primal level in a way that you can’t possibly understand.”

“Is it just because minigolf is sized to be regular-and- _not_ -mini golf for you?” Irene said.

“One short joke per week,” Gen said. “And no. I like the sense of chaos.”

“Fine,” Irene said. “Per calendar week or per seven days? Also, when are you free? Do they even have minigolf in the winter?”

“Per calendar week, any night I don’t have ballet, and I know a guy who can get us in.”

“Legally?”

“No comment,” Gen said as the song came to an end. “But wear shoes you can run in.”

“I can run in just about any shoes,” Irene said. “I can run in heels.”

“Like a sexy velociraptor,” Gen said, with a faraway look in his eyes. Irene was flattered despite herself.

“Let’s head out,” she said. “Unless you want to stay and dance some more.”

“No, I’m good,” Gen said. “Let me just swipe some cookies from the snack table.”

“Great,” Irene said. “You do that and I’ll meet you on the steps outside the library.” The two of them bowed to each other and split up, Irene heading for the coat check and Gen heading for the snack table.

“Leaving so soon?” called the muscular man out front who had looked at her student ID.

“I’ll come back some other time!” Irene said, hurrying to pull her jacket and long underwear leggings on and change her shoes. She pushed open the door and ran down the steps.

“Leaving so soon?” she heard the man say behind her to someone else in the exact same intonation as she walked a few buildings down to the town library.

Irene kicked through the snow—about half an inch had stuck so far and more was falling—as she walked. The library was a similar building to the town hall, built around the same time, but a little more spread out. It also had some very pretty stone steps out front. She cleared off one with her mitten and sat down to wait, already working out what she needed to do next. As much as she hated to admit it, she and Gen should talk about the hand thing. Specifically, whether or not any of it had been her fault because of the whole poorly-considered and -timed kissing incident beforehand. Hah. Beforehand. She shouldn’t keep her worries about it from him for long, as much as she might like to. Still, it definitely wasn’t a “before even the first date” kind of topic. Irene could let it lie, for a little while. She looked up, as footsteps approached her seat.

“I have a very serious question,” Gen said. “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, sugar, or snickerdoodle?”

“How many cookies do you have?” Irene said.

“My pockets are vast and my fingers quick.”

“Oatmeal raisin,” Irene said, clearing a spot beside her on the step before taking her mittens off so she could hold a) the cookie, and b) Gen’s hand. “I’m an old lady at heart.”

“Give that back,” Gen said, “I have to eat my cookie too.” Irene made a cranky noise and continued to hold Gen’s hand. “Fine, then you have to feed it to me.”

“Which one do you want?” Irene said, twisting to grab one of the cookies resting on the napkin he’d laid on his thigh.

“Snickerdoodle,” Gen said. She grabbed it and wrapped the rest of the cookies up, dropping them in her coat pocket instead.

“Thanks for the lovely gift,” Irene said, batting her eyelashes as Gen made outraged noises. She raised the snickerdoodle.

“You’re not allowed to shove it into my mouth,” Gen said. “That’s too predictable.”

“I would never,” Irene lied, changing her plans and instead holding the snickerdoodle up so that he had to lean forward awkwardly to take a bite. She set Gen’s cookie on her knee and shoved the rest of her own cookie into her face in one bite. Gen opened his mouth and did a remarkably bad impression of a baby bird, so she gave him the rest of his snickerdoodle.

“So did you like the dancing?” Gen said, mouth still full. Irene finished chewing and swallowed before responding.

“I did,” she said. “I get why Pheris likes the patterns so much. I’m going to come back. Plus, you’ll be there too, right?”

“I dunno,” Gen said. “I’ve been getting really into this thing called ballet—you’ve probably never heard of it—”

Irene grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it under his collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired of looking at this so here ya go. Thank you so much to everyone in the QT discord for all the hand-holding, encouragement, advice about kissing scenes, Forbidden Sister names, etc. The Cedar Street Shuffle is a real contra dance, by the way, and I hope its creator never looks it up and finds this fic.


End file.
